Hard Times and Strange Minds
by Car
Summary: "Mr. President, this is the Washington DC chief of police. I'm sorry to be calling at this hour, but I'm afraid I have a…friend of yours here at the station." What happened during this night of mayhem? I don't think THEY even know for sure.
1. How Did You Get Here?

**Oh, this is going to be fun. XD**

* * *

It was approximately 1:37am when the cell phone of the president of the United States of America began to ring.

Now, though his children were still young and had not yet reached the point of rebellious teenagerhood, the president still knew enough about late night/early morning phone calls to know that they meant nothing positive.

For it was not defiant children that the President needed to worry about, oh no, his children were akin to little angles sleeping peacefully in their beds.

The real problem was Alfred F. Jones. The United States of America himself.

The First Lady moaned, shoving her head unceremoniously under her pillow. "Would you _answer_ that thing, already?"

"They'll leave a message if it's important," he mumbled in reply, flipping away from the annoying piece of technology and clenching his eyes tightly shut.

"What if it's Alfred?" She asked, slightly muffled from the pillow. "He might be in trouble."

The President rolled his eyes. "I'm sure he is."

"So answer it."

"He's a big boy, hun, he can take care of himself."

An angry eye peaked at him through a small gap between the pillow and the mattress. The President groaned, turning back around and putting his phone to his ear before answering groggily.

"Hello, this is the President speaking."

"Mr. President, this is the Washington DC chief of police." The President winced. He was afraid of that. "I'm sorry to be calling at this hour, but I'm afraid I have a…friend of yours here at the station."

"What did Alfred do?" He asked, exasperation dripping from every word as he tenderly massaged his temples. The First Lady poked her head out from it's hiding place to raise a curious eyebrow.

The voice on the other end of the phone paused uncomfortably before clearing her throat. "I think it's best if he explain that to you himself."

He groaned, the First Lady now sitting up at full attention, gesturing to her husband to keep her informed. "I'll be there right away."

"What's going on?" The First Lady asked as the President hung up his phone. He slithered from the bed in response and reached into his dresser, pulling out and slipping into a pair of pants.

"Alfred got himself arrested."

* * *

"It'll be_ fiiine_, he says! No one is going to_ knooow_, he says! What's the _bloody worst_ that could happen, he says! Guess what, you twat? _This_! This right here is the worst that could happen!"

"Hmm I do not know, _l'Angleterre,"_ France replied simply, following the pacing Brit lazily with his eyes."I believe the situation could be _beaucoup plus mauvais_."

England stopped abruptly to shoot the Frenchman an icy glare. "How the _fuck_ could this get any _fucking _worse, you blasted frog?"

France grinned. "You _could_ be fully clothed and I would not be receiving such a _magnifique_ performance."

America chuckled from his place on his bench as England proceeded to beat the ever-loving shit out of France. He adjusted the small towel they (thankfully) gave each nation to cover their respective vital regions and shook his head in amusement. "Could you guys at least _try_ to keep from killing each other until my boss gets here? They said he shouldn't be long."

England reluctantly let go of France's neck, turning away in a huff. "This is completely humiliating. I don't even know what possessed me into agreeing to such an idiotic idea in the first place."

"Perhaps it was the opportunity to view _l'Amérique_ in _la_ nude? I know that was _my excuse_." France grinned. England's face turned a delightful shade of deep pink before the nation once again attacked the other. America crinkled his nose in disgust.

"You came just tosee me _naked_?"

France managed to pull himself away from England long enough to shoot the younger a grin and a wink before promptly being punched in the face. America shuddered and scooted as far away from France as he could while remaining on the bench.

A stern clearing of a throat finally calmed their fighting, and each nation turned to face the Chief who was accompanied by an embarrassed and bewildered looking president. America beamed, jumping from the bench and giving his boss a hearty salute.

"Hey there, sir!"

"Oh dear god you're naked."

America blushed, biting his lip and twiddling his thumbs. "Well, they provided us with these little towels, so technically…"

"Bloody hell, you git, out of my way this moment." England shoved America, who squeaked in surprise, and took his spot in front of the president. "Please, _please_ get me out of here." Out of the corner of his eye, France blew him a suggestive kiss. England paled. "And for the love of the Queen, get me a sodding pair of pants."

The President shook his head, holding the bridge of his nose tightly in fingertips. "_You_ were arrested, Arthur? And Francis, and…" He blinked. "Gilbert?"

In the next cell over, Prussia grinned and flipped the president the bird.

"Actually, he was there when we got here," America explained, rubbing the back of his neck.

The president blinked. "I wont ask."

"We figured that was the best idea, especially because he's in nothing but lederhosen."

England shuddered. "Very, _very_ small lederhosen."

France smirked lecherously. "I see no _promblem_."

"Hey!" Prussia exclaimed. "You're all just jealous of my overwhelming awesomeness. You know you all _wish_ you could look this good!" He crossed his arms, pouting childishly. "Fuck you guys, I'm glad I have my own cell."

"Wanker." England grumbled, rolling his eyes. France pouted.

"But _mon ami_, _I_ was not complaining."

The President held up his hand tiredly. "Can someone _please_ just tell me how you all ended up here? It's almost two in the morning and I'm tired."

"Well," Prussia began, "It all started when I was kicked out of the strip club-"

"Not. You." The President hissed. Prussia immediately sat back down.

America stood dramatically, flashing everyone his signiture grin. "Let the _hero_ handle this."

From the far corner of the cell, England tisked and rolled his eyes. "Better sit down, Mr. President, we may be here a while."

"It was a day like any other…" America began animatedly, "Our hero awoke and heroically ate a bowl of Cocoa Puffies, leaving not a drop of milk behind…" The President swiftly took England's advice and pulled a chair to the front of the cell.

Yep, it was about time he faced facts.

There was no fuckingway he was going back to bed any time soon.

* * *

**Silly boys, what did you do to get yourself in trouble this time? XD The next chapter will be America's recount of this night of chaos, so make sure you come back for that! I'm sure it's going to be freaking nuts.**

**Sooooo I made a forum! I talked about it before in another fic, but I finally made it! It's called Hetalia etc, and its basically just for fans to talk about Hetalia, life, love, me, whatever! So you guys should go check it out, cause it's pretty lonely right now. XD**

**Till next time, my friends!  
-Car **


	2. America

It was a day like any other.

Our hero awoke and heroically ate a bowl of Cocoa Puffies, leaving not a drop of milk behind. America knew he had to eat a hearty, healthy breakfast, for it was once again time for the annual world meeting to be held in his home and everything needed to run smoothly.

"Hello world!" America exclaimed, greeting his fellow nations as he strolled into the conference room. "Is everyone ready for a day full of progress and advancement?" Every nation turned and graced him with a bright smile and a nod of their heads.

"Oh America," Vietnam cooed, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I can't tell you how happy I am that _you_ are the one hosting this meeting."

America beamed as Hungary slipped herself around him on his other side. "I couldn't agree more." She ran a delicate hand through his hair. "I was just telling Austria how _glad_ I was that our oh so important world meeting was going to be held in the home of a _real_ man."

"America!" Belgium exclaimed as she jumped up from the other side of the table, holding her hand out to him pleadingly. "To thank you for being so incredibly awesome, I'm going to shower you with chocolate and waffles as thanks for gracing us with your presence!"

"Ladies, ladies!" America laughed, wiggling out of their embrace. "Come on now, there's plenty of America to go around! But we have an important meeting to get to, so lets focus on that, huh?"

After a few whines and pouts and a swift kick to the nuts from Belarus for no real reason whatsoever, America was finally able to get the room under control. Once his very detailed and precise charts and graphs were passed to every nation, he cleared his throat and prepared to wow the other nations when the door suddenly swung open.

"Terribly sorry I'm late everyone," England apologized, rushing into the room and taking his seat at the table. "Absolutely appalling traffic on my way over here. Have I missed anything?"

America let out an exaggerated, exasperated sigh. "Nothing too important, I _guess_. Could someone pass Tardy McLatepants some of the papers please? Thanks Spain. Anyway as I was _saying_…"

England blushed, biting his lip and self-consciously taking the documents. Late again. He sighed deeply and thumbed through America's spectacular notes, wishing, dreaming, _praying_ that somehow, someday, he could even dream to be considered a minuscule bit as awesome as his ex-colony.

Placing his packet in front of him carefully, he fixed his eyes on the heroic nation who cleared his throat and started the meeting over properly.

"Okay everyone, listen up, I have some super cool ideas to fix this whole world hunger thing! First of all, I have one word for all of you…FLDSMDFR!"

As all the other nations gasped in wonder and astonishment, America grinned to himself. Another world problem solved by the United fucking States of Awesome.

This called for a couple drinks.

* * *

"So how about it, boys? First round is on me!"

The small cluster of nations surrounding America cheered, and America grinned, placing a pitcher of cold, frosty beer in the center of the table.

As France poured himself and England a hearty glass-full, that whimpy looking guy with the pancakes (what was his name again? Canadia? Wasn't that somewhere in Europe?), turned to him and smiled gratefully. "Thank you America," he practically whispered. "This is really nice of you."

"My pleasure!" Our hero grinned, pouring himself a glass and smiling at his drinking buddies for the night. "That's what heroes are for! Besides, I know for a fact that I'm the richest of you guys by far, so it's only polite to help the little people once in a while."

"Zis is true." France adjusted his beret and twirled the end of his thin mustache in the pads of his fingers. "I am zo poor, I cannot even afford to shower or provide my woman with zee razors for zare 'airy pits."

England scoffed, pouring what America could only assume to be his third glass of beer in the past five minutes. "The only reason you're so bloody rich is because _I_ raised you to be that way, you sodding twat." He took a large swig. "Though, I only say that because I'm so fucking jealous that you kicked my arse during the revolution and have somehow perfected my otherwise boring television programs."

America gulped as the older nation finished his drink and poured the remainder of the pitcher in to his glass. "Now, now, buddy, you may wanna take it down a notch," he chuckled nervously. "You know how you get when you drink…"

"Sod off, wanker."

Luckily, before England could do anything too embarrassing (punching France in the face for sticking his hands down his pants excluded, cause honestly, the surrender monkey kinda deserved that one), the door of the bars busted open, reveling a large explosion on the street outside.

Tony rushed in, eyes wild with fright and desperation. As he spotted America, he released a sigh of relief and ran to him without delay. "America!"

"Tony!" America hurried to his alien friend as another explosion sounded from outside. "What is it? What's going on out there?"

"It's Russia!" Tony exclaimed, "He is attacking for absolutely no reason at all!"

America's face hardened into a stern glare. "Russia."

* * *

Standing atop a rooftop, Russia smirked evilly as he surveyed the work his minions were making of America's capital. From down below, he could make out a small blonde dot he knew to be America himself.

"Russia!" He exclaimed, fists clenched and eyes flashing. England and France rushed to his side. "You fucking Commie! Stop this second!"

The Russian laughed, crossing his arms and meeting America's glare without so much as a flinch. "Why if it isn't little comrade friend, America," he sneered. "Enjoying the show, da?"

"You fucking bastard." America pulled a pistol from his coat and pointed it with perfect aim at the figure on the roof. He barley heard the small gasps from the friends at his side. "Call off your attack and I wont shoot your ass to kingdom come."

Russia simply laughed again. "Silly America, always so willing to shoot his problems away!" He smirked. "_Nyet, nyet_ my little friend. This little problem can be solved in much easier way."

America kept the gun trained at the Russian, wavering only slightly at the suggestion. "How?" He asked suspiciously.

"It is quite simple." Russia smiled, nonchalantly pointing his pipe in England's direction. "All you have to do is let your little friend England do an act of my bidding."

England gasped, stepping back from the building as America jumped protectively in front of the older nation. "Not on your _life_," he spat.

"Well if that is case, then say goodbye to your precious capital." Russia shrugged and turned to leave the edge of the roof.

"Russia!"

Everyone turned to England in surprise at his sudden exclamation. America's eyes widened as he reached out to gently place a hand on England's shoulder. "England…?"

England stepped forward, determination in his eyes. "I'll do it."

"England, no!" America cried.

"Are you insane,_ Angleterre_?" France exclaimed, grabbing his shoulders desperately. "You cannot do zhis! Zhis is _Russia_ we are talking about! Zere is no telling what he will do to you!"

"I don't fucking care!" England grumbled, shaking him off. "I have to do this!" His eyes suddenly fell as a small blush snuck across his cheeks. "…For America."

America gasped. "E-England…?"

"Well, did you hear me or not?" England called up to Russia. "I said I'll do your bloody request, now call off the attack!"

"England no! You're drunk, you don't know what you're doing!" America pleaded. England ignored him.

"I'm not that drunk, you git." He kept his attention solely on Russia. "Well? What is it you tosser?"

Russia grinned. "As I said, it is quite simple. All you need to do is strip of the clothes and run around Washington. Very simple."

"Fine."

"England no!" America grabbed his hand and spun him around so they were face to face. "I can't let you do this! This is humiliating!" His eyes began to water dramatically. "I'll do it. I can't let you be the one to suffer for my capital. After all…" He bit his lip and smiled boldly. "I'm the hero."

England blushed lightly. "Don't be daft, you git, he wants me to do it."

"But England-"

"No," England snapped. Despite his confidence, he couldn't bring himself to make eye contact with the younger nation. "Just…just let me do this, will you? I…I need to do this…for you."

America grasped England's hand tightly. "_We'll_ do this, England. _Together_."

England bit his lip and looked away before America placed his hand on his cheek and forced him to look into his eyes. The older nation's eyes widened as he cautiously opened his mouth to speak. In a whisper, England murmured into Americas ear….

"What the _hell _are you _bloody_ talking about you _fucking wanker_?"

* * *

England exclaimed as America sunk back away from him with an amused chuckle. "That sorry excuse for bile you just spat up isn't even remotely close to what happened! Blimey! What the _fuck_ was that rubbish?"

America grinned sheepishly, ducking from England's flying fists. "Artistic license?"

"Artistic li-? Bloody hell you twat! You made me sound like a bloody woman!"

France chuckled and shook his head in amusement. "I thought _Amérique_ did a _magnifique_ job of describing you,_ Angleterre_." He sent a glare at America. "However, I wonder what was with that _ridiculous_ accent of mine."

"It's how you sound!" America exclaimed. "And I don't know why you guys are being so pissy about this, that is totally exactly what happened!"

The president cleared his throat. "You know, Alfred. I somehow have a feeling I would have been aware of Washington DC being under attack from Communists." America whistled and fiddled his thumbs as the other nations glared in his direction. "Anyone want to tell me what _actually_ happened?"

"Of course Mr. President, allow _me_ to give you the _true_ story." England stepped forward, shooting America a look before clearing his throat. The president sighed. _Here we go again._

_

* * *

_**And there we have a glance into the mind of our moronic friend America! XD So I hope you guys see what I'm going to be doing with the rest of the fic. This next chapter will be England's recount of their night, and then France's and maybe if we get lucky, we'll find out what ACTUALLY happened. Gotta say, America's is probably the least accurate of them all. XD**

**Hope you had as much fun reading that as I had writing it! And as the story goes, see if you can make connections through them and figure out what happened before it's shown! It'll be fun! XD**


	3. England

Arthur Kirkland, of the United Kingdom of Great Brittan and Northern Ireland, was proud to say that he was perfectly normal, thank you very much. He was the last person you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or idiotic, because he just didn't hold with such nonsense.

Sadly, someone forgot to mention this fact to the powers that be, because he was constantly surrounded by a flock of idiots.

"Well, howdy there England! How are y'all doin' this fine mornin'? You enjoy you're night in my humble little hotel?"

England grumbled into his tea. Speaking of which. "I'm quite pleasant, America, thank you." He took a long, agonizing sip, willing the idiot away.

Sadly, the powers that be also did not feel the need to grant him _any_ fucking solitude as America slid onto the bench opposite him and grinned eagerly. "Well that is mighty good to hear. I was worried y'all wouldn't have that new fangled technology out there in English country!"

England raised an eyebrow questionably. "'New fangled technology'?"

"Beds!"

"Oh bloody hell." England rubbed his temples in complete and utter surrender.

America grinned on. "Why don't you finish up that there cup o' tea and we'll mozey on outside and hail us a cab to the meeting? I know it's a little early, but I gotta find time to get me a good ol' MacDonalds burger to start my day! You know how I love my sodium and fat! I'll even get you somethin' if you're _reeeal_ nice!"

England shuddered. "Actually America, I'm afraid I'll have to take a rain check. You go on without me."

"Nonsense!" England yelped as he was forcibly yanked from his booth and pulled from the hotel diner. With barely enough time to throw enough money for his tab, let alone a tip onto the table, he stared up at the younger nation in complete horror.

"_What_ are you _doing_ you git?"

"Well, just look at you! Not an once of fat on ya, and in incredibly good shape, especially for a man of your age. Can't have that, now can I? Gotta fattin' ya up like a Thanksgivin' turkey!"

England paled. "Really America, That is quite alright, I actually had a rather rich biscuit this morning, so I'm really quite full and-"

"_TAXI!"_

"_AMERICA!_ Would you listen to me for one bloody second?"

America put down his taxi-hailing arm and smiled brightly. "Sure thing, old man. What can I do for ya?"

England took a deep breath and inwardly counted to ten before continuing slowly so the idiot could understand him. "For the last time, I do not want to go with you to get your greasy food, and I am perfectly capable of hailing cab all on my own, thank you very much. I do not require your assistance."

America smiled understandingly. "Well why didn't cha just say so?" England slapped his forehead as a bright yellow taxi pulled up to the curb. The younger nation slipped inside. "I'll let you handle that then. See ya at the meetin'!"

England gratefully waved him off and held his own hand into the air proudly and confidently.

Ten minutes later, England grumpily walked the entire way to the meeting.

The American transportation system is fucking rubbish.

* * *

Despite arriving late (because the American transportation system is fucking rubbish, mind you), the meeting went as well as could be expected.

France periodically touched England inappropriately under the table, Spain molested Romano who cursed at him with so much vigor it made his nonexistent grandmother cry, Greece slept, Russia was creepy, America prattled on about something stupid, Prussia passed out handbooks on how to properly greet 'his awesomeness' in public, Germany willingly knocked himself into unconsciousness… The usual.

It really was a good thing no one expected the meetings to go well.

By the end of the afternoon, England was sporting quite the headache and could not wait to retire into his bed and read or perhaps do a little embroidery. He was halfway out the door before the infamous call echoed it's way through the nearly emptied room. England froze in his spot.

"So how 'bout it, fellas, anyone up for a round or two? My treat!"

England paled. He was _not_ in the mood to go out drinking. All he wanted to do was go back to his hotel and do a little needlework. But he knew, knew for a fact, that he wouldn't get his wish.

It was a sad fact that America never really _asked_ anyone anything. Sure, it may sound or look like a question, but in reality it was never anything short of a demand. America was _demanding_ that he be accompanied drinking, and there was no way of getting out of it.

Thus, before he knew it, America, the frog, some other nation he couldn't quite remember off the top of his head, and himself made their way to the local bar.

* * *

England had just finished his first and only drink (a gentleman never orders more than one when someone else is paying), when the unicorn walked in.

"England!" It called, galloping over to him swiftly. "I'm so glad I found you, you have to help me!"

"What is it, Uni?" He asked worriedly, running a hand though his soft mane.

The unicorn sighed, obviously distraught over something. "He who shall not be named has come back, England."

England gasped. "You don't mean-?"

Uni nodded solemnly. "You, England, are the only one who can stop him."

"But how do I do that? I couldn't possibly…"

Uni quickly shushed him, bowing his head to reveal a small gold ring situated on his elegant horn. "You must take this into the heart of Hogwarts, England. When you arrive, agent 007 will be waiting. He will know what to do next."

England eyed the ring suspiciously. "But wont it drive me mad?"

"Only the dimwitted can be corrupted by it's spell." He glanced to the table of drunken idiots just as France attempted to open a beer bottle using America's teeth. He winced. "So, keep it away from them."

England nodded, slipping the ring from the horn and attaching it to a chain around his neck. "I will do my best, friend."

"Tally ho." Uni nodded, bidding farewell and made his way from the bar.

England fiddled with the small gold object around his neck for a moment before taking a deep breath and turning his attention back to America and France, who at the moment appeared to be preparing to execute the can-can on the top of their table.

"Gentlemen!" England exclaimed. The two other nations stared down at him curiously as England bit his lip. "I must take this ring to Hogwarts..." He glanced shyly up at America. "But I do not know the way."

America turned serious suddenly, jumping from the table and placing a comforting hand on England's shoulder. "If by my life or death I can protect you, I will. You have my M4A1 carbine assault rifle." France hopped down as well, taking England's hands in his own.

"And you have my body."

England promptly slapped him.

"Right then!" He clapped his hands and gestured towards the door with his suddenly acquired wand and Hogwarts robes. "To Hogwarts!"

* * *

America dragged his feet down the road, moaning every other step. "Ain't there a train or somethin' to take us to this magicy school ah' yours, England?"

"Sadly, that's only for registered Hogwarts students," England grumbled, keeping his eyes trained in front of him while smacking away France's wondering hands.

"How come you ain't a Hogwarts student, then?"

England's eyes darkened. "I would rather not talk about it."

The younger nation smirked. "They didn't let you in, did they?"

"I happened to be past the age of acceptance by the time the school opened," England seethed. "I called on multiple occasions and unfortunately, despite being their _fucking_ country they wouldn't let me in. Okay sure, so I guess _technically_ Scotland is their country, but that wanker is always too busy getting fucking pissed with Wales and Northern Ireland to fucking attend a bloody meeting, and those gits just send me to do all the fucking dirty work. I'm the bloody United Kingdom! I deserve the chance to go to my _fucking school!"_

* * *

France placed a comforting hand on the panting England's shoulder as America and the president exchanged puzzled glances. "That is quite enough, _mon ami_."

England flushed, cleared his throat, and ran a hand through his hair. "Right, very sorry, lost myself for a moment there."

"Dude," America snickered. "You're _still_ hung up on that? You've been trying to get into that school for like… fourteen years now."

England glared at him and crossed his arms in a huff. "Oh piss off. Now, where are we?"

* * *

"Uh, I think we're here," America replied. Sure enough, England looked to his right, and there stood Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. America pursed his lips. "You know. This here school looks an awfully lot like Russia's house."

"Don't be daft." England scoffed, making his way into the building and leaving no choice but for France and America to follow after.

As the trio wondered through the halls, France happened upon a room full of torturous devices (which only served to fuel America's belief that they were, indeed, at Russia's house), but they found neither hide nor tail of the secret agent or the villainous wizard. England's eyes narrowed.

"I know he has to be here somewhere." He fiddled with the ring absentmindedly, briefly juggling the idea of letting it slip _accidentally_ onto his right index finger…It certainly would be easy…just a little slip and…

"Hey ya'll! Check out what I just found!"

England snapped out of it and quickly slid the ring back inside his shirt as America practically skipped over, giggling over something he was holding in his hands. Beaming, he shoved the object into England's face.

"I found Russia's underweaaar!" He sang. England retched.

"Get those bloody things away from me! And for the love of God, they are _not_ Russia's."

"How would you know?" He pouted.

"They are _woman's_ undergarments."

America beamed. "Russia wears ladies panties!"

"Oh for the love of-!"

France cleared his throat, tearing the nations away from America's stupidity, to the hulking, threatening figure looming in the hallway. "_Mes amis_? I think it is time for us to run away…"

"Oh no, it's Russia!"

"_It's not fucking Russia!_ It's the dark lord! RUN!"

The nations sprinted from Hogwarts as fast as their legs would carry them, running even faster when they realized the police were in tight pursuit.

* * *

"Needless to say, we were hunted down, captured and brought to this very cell once the ring was in the dark lord's possession. The end."

America frowned. "And you said _my_ story was inaccurate? What the fuck was _that_?" He paused. "And why the hell did I sound like a freakin' hillbilly?"

France pouted dramatically. "At least you were in the story, _Amérique,_ I was barely a whisper in the breeze."

"That's because I try to block you from my memory as much as possible,_ frog_. And I don't know what you bloody tossers are talking about, that was precisely what happened!"

The president rubbed his temples. "We're not getting anywhere. Maybe I should just bail you out, I have a meeting tomorrow and I really need to get some sleep."

"_Non, non, non,__Monsieur President_. Allow me to tell the tale, _oui_? I will tell you nothing but the truth."

Prussia grinned from his cell where he sat cross-legged on the floor, listening to the stories intently. "Fuck yeah! France's turn! Awesome! _Furchteinflößend!"_

"Really, Francis, that's really, _really_ okay. I-"

"_S'il vous plait, monsieur"_ France smirked._ "J'insiste."_

_

* * *

_**Oh England, you and your magic! **

**I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! I apologize if this has any typos, I fell at practice this morning and twisted my ankle and cut up my hands, arms and legs, so it's kind hard to type. =( BUT today was my day off from student teaching meetings so I really wanted to get this done! Hope it's okay! XD**

**So I didn't PLAN on doing a Prussia chapter, because who am I, a mere mortal, to capture his awesomness, but if you guys want one, and I get enough support for one, I will totally write one up for you all! So let me know! :) Hope you liked, and tune in next time for France!**

**Oh and just for fun, see how many Loord of the Rings and Harry Potter references you guys can find! XD**


	4. France

It really is a crying shame that the world is such a _grand_ place.

So many beautiful, fascinating nations, all thrown together on one picturesque planet, but spaced just so that it was a real pain in the ass to be able to fully appreciate all of them.

And oh, how France _loved_ to appreciate them.

From the carefree and spicy Latinos to the bitter but proud British, from the traditional and flavorful Asians to the adventurous and diverse Americans, from the unique Europeans to the exotic Africans and everyone in-between; France loved them all and wouldn't be satisfied without having at least a _peu_ taste of each.

This was why France was probably the only nation in the entire world who actually didn't mind attending world meetings.

"Okay everyone, listen up, I have some super cool ideas to fix this whole world hunger thing!" America announced from the front of the table, blissfully unaware of the groans and moans of irritation from the rest of the room. "First of all, I have one word for all of you…FLDSMDFR!"

Oh, bless that boy's sweet ass. England _must_ have dropped him on his head as a child. At least twice.

Probably more.

"America," Germany grumbled, his head resting in his palm. "That word doesn't have any vowels in it. It is not a word. In fact, I am curious as to how you were even able to pronounce it."

The younger nation pouted. "But…but it makes it rain food…"

Germany pushed him aside where he was quickly pulled back into his seat by a rather handsy England, whose hand lingered just a big longer than necessary on his shoulder. "If anyone has any other ideas for solving world hunger, feel free to share," Germany practically begged, eyes trailing over uncomfortable and ignoring faces.

France held up his hand proudly and was immediately granted permission to come to the front of the room, despite the moan of an irritated Brit.

"_Bonjour mes amis!_ Beautiful day, _non_?" France flashed the room a brilliant, seductive smile, almost feeling guilty as more than one nation swooned into a faint.

Almost.

"I have a _très magnifique_ solution to our little food _problème."_

"France! I want to have your babies!" A voice called out suddenly.

France grinned, winking at his admirer. "_Merci_, Spain!" He sang. Romano punched the grinning nation in the stomach. "My first suggestion is to completely cut off food supply to the British islands, as anything that crosses into that land ultimately bursts into flame."

"Ex_cuse_ me?" England snapped. France shrugged.

"The truth hurts, _mon ami_."

"Not as much as a kick to the nads, you sodding-"

Prussia pumped his fist into the air. "Fuck yeah! Fight!"

All and all, the meeting was relatively uneventful. Until of course, America invited a small cluster of nations to the bar to wind down.

_That_ was when things got interesting.

* * *

"And-and you know what-what else? I…I bloody _hate_ that jacket. It's-it's stupid. Like yer _face_."

France cocked an eyebrow in amusement at the drunken, slurring England and turned his head to regard the almost as drunk, irritated looking American.

"Oh-oh yeah? Well, yoooou have giant caterpillar eyebrows!" At this he smiled proudly, obviously believing this was the best insult in the world. France turned his attention back to England, who was now gaping in shock.

"You-you-you bloody _twat_! If I didn't want in your pants so bad I would punch you so hard it would cause an earthquake."

"Yeah? Well I would totally get off on that, so suck it!"

England smirked impishly, leaning over to gaze into the American's half lidded eyes. "Don't mind if I do, you _wanker_."

* * *

"Now you just hold on one bloody minute!" England snapped. France smiled coolly.

"What is the matter, _Angleterre?"_

England narrowed his eyes dangerously. "I know exactly where that filth of yours is headed and I am putting a stop to it this moment. Not only is that completely inappropriate, but it is also entirely inaccurate, and I refuse to allow you to infect the poor president's mind with that rubbish. Don't you agree, America?"

America sat on the bench, eyes wide and unwavering from France. "Then what happened?" He asked in awe.

"America!" England gasped. France chuckled.

"I suppose I will skip that part for now, if _la prude_ is not _confortable_." The entire cell sighed in relief, save for Prussia for let out a small mumble of annoyance. "Now, where was I? Ah yes…"

* * *

France lazily threw his arm around the chair next to him, giving the young, cute Canadian sitting in it a small start. He smiled flirtatiously. "_Bonjour mon cheri. Avoir l'amusement?"_ Are you having fun?

The adorable little thing flushed. "_Ah, oui je suis, merci."_ Yes I am, thank you.

Oh how France loved it when other nations spoke his wonderful language of _l'amour._

He leaned ever so slightly in the younger nation's direction and ran a delicate finger around one of Canada's soft curls. "_Le mon cher Canada._ _Voulez vous coucher avec moi,"_ France purred, lowering his eyelids as he whispered sweetly into his ear. "_Ce soir?"_

Canada blushed wildly, and found himself getting closer and closer to the sexy European. "F-France… I-"

* * *

"_Goddamnit_, frog!"

France chuckled sheepishly, waving his hands in surrender. "_Pardon! Pardon!_ I could not help myself!"

America shuddered. "Dude, that's my _brother_. And why the hell were you quoting _Moulin Rouge_?" Everyone raised a questioning eyebrow in his direction. "N-not like I've ever watched it or anything."

America's boss sighed deeply. "Please continue Francis…but lay off the porn, okay?"

"If you insist, monsieur." France winked. The president rolled his eyes.

* * *

It didn't take long for France to completely lose interest in his companion's sexually fueled banter in favor of far more interesting subjects.

Namely the extremely attractive bartender and the young lady at table twelve.

_Bonjouuur_ table twelve.

"Do you honestly-?"

"—telling you! It'll be-!"

"—_wrong_ with you, git! Who-– panties?"

"Then— naked!"

Well. That was one way to get France's attention.

"What was that I hear about panties and getting naked, _messieurs_?"

America drunkenly beamed, slapping the table a bit too hard and spilling England's drink into his lap, causing the older nation to curse loudly. "It's gonna be awesome! You in?"

"Oh, Brilliant," England grumbled, trying to clean himself up while seeing double of his own lap. "Invite the bloody frog and make my night even worse, why don't you."

America blinked. "But I just did..."

"Oh for the love of—just forget it."

France smirked and waved him off. "You do not have to come, _Angleterre._ Young _Amérique_ and I will just have naked time without you."

"Not on your life," England seethed.

"Then let's go!" America exclaimed, grasping England and France's hands and running out the door into the cool night air.

* * *

The trio had walked for what felt like hours, and France was becoming frustrated at the apparent lack of a panty-clad England or naked America.

Talk about false advertisement.

"We just _had_ to _walk_ all the bloody way to Russia's house, didn't we?" England griped as the trio trudged along. "One would think with all of that state-of-the-art technology you're always blabbering on about, we would, oh, I don't know, _use_ it? But of _course_ not, that would make too much bloody sense. Wanker."

France pursed his lips, taking in this new information. So they were including Russia in this little adventure, were they?

Kinky.

"Well _sorry_ Ukraine is spending the night at her brother's." America snapped, rolling his eyes. "When we get there, you can give her a stern talking to. Now _shut up_, we're here."

Oh, so Ukraine was also joining in on this little escapade? France smiled wistfully. He liked this plan more and more every second. At least he figured he would, if he actually knew what was going on.

The group snuck around to the back gate, England using his delinquent pirate skills to pick the lock, and snuck up to the sliding glass door. With a shushing motion at his lips, America slid the slightly squeaky door open and tiptoed inside.

"Someone turn on a fucking light, it's dark as a unicorn's ass in here."

"You _would_ know that."

"Sod off!"

Leaving the lovers to their spat, France felt his hands along the wall, searching for a switch before locating one and flipping it up. "_Voilà!"_

"Ah, look who we have here, сестра! You have come for some _fun_, _da_?"

The trio squinted into the newly lit kitchen, immediately freezing in their place as their eyes adjusted, reveling the sight that lay before them. Russia and Ukraine stood on top of the kitchen table, clothed head to toe in shiny black leather, Russia's trusty pipe resting casually in his hand, while Ukraine held an intimidating looking whip, looking as though she was nearly on the brink of tears.

Russia smiled at them wickedly. "Who is wanting to be first? _England_ perhaps?"

England's eyes widened as he was forcefully pushed forward by Belarus, who suddenly appeared out of nowhere, also wearing leather. With a gulp, he nervously stepped towards the table as Russia bent down to look him straight in the eye.

The large nation traced a lone finger down the curve of England's nose. "I will make this as painless as possible." He smirked, slipping off England's tie and-

* * *

"That is _it_, you fucking bastard! _C'mere!"_

"But _Angleterre!_ I was simply-"

"You were _simply_ being a bloody pervert! Now hold still so I can _castrate_ you!"

America, Prussia, and the president all sighed as England, once again, starting beating the shit out of France. Prussia threw his hands behind his head, leaning causally against the cold, brick wall.

"And here I thought I had an eventful night. You guys win, for sure."

America crossed his arms; absentmindedly watching as England repeatedly slammed France's face into the bars on the far wall. "Yeah, that's totally not what happened."

The president released a long, mournful sigh for his ruined night of peaceful slumber and rubbed his temples. "_All _I wanted to know what how you all ended up here. That's all. Can't one of you please, _please_ just tell me what happened so I can go home?"

"Um, I can…"

The small, barely audible voice somehow managed to capture the attention of the rest of the room, successfully breaking up England and France's fight and causing the Europeans to join the others in looking around in confusion.

All at once, everyone's gaze landed on a timid figure sitting in the corner of the cell. They gasped.

"_Canada?"_

_

* * *

_**This is the chapter that almost never was. See, when I originally planed out this story, the France chapter was originally going to be a warning that due to sexual content, the chapter couldn't be posted. But then people actually READ this story, sooo I felt bad doing that and came up with a chapter. XD Hope you still enjoyed it! **

**On another note, I start my final year of college tomorrow. Damn, I'm old. XD in 9ish months I'll be a free woman! **

**OH YES! There's a new poll up on my profile! It'll decide what story I write next, so go vote! And don't forget about my forum, guys! I love to make friends! :) **


	5. Who? Part 1: The Meeting

"Hey bro!" America exclaimed, apparently the first to shake out of his stupor. "What are you doing here, dude?"

"W-well, actually I've-"

"Ah_! Mon cher_ Canada! It is obvious that you missed me so much you got yourself arrested so that you could spend the rest of the night with _moi_! How sweet!"

"Um, a-actually-"

England scoffed. "Oh please. Like anyone would get arrested just to spend time with you. Hell, like anyone would do _anything_ to spend time with you."

"Oh? And what would_ you_ know about Canada's desires, _mon cher_?"

"Because, despite your irksome tainting, he was raised by me, and therefore has enough common sense to stay away from a dirty frog like you."

"Oh of course," France chuckled. "Because nations raised by you are obviously the most refined."

In the back corner of the cell, America sat staring at the wall, giggling as a smirking Prussia reflected light off a buckle on his lederhosen, making it dance along in front of the younger nation.

"Hehe!" He giggled, clapping his hands. "It's fun because it's shiny!"

France smirked. England grumbled.

"Oh, piss off."

Canada sighed, absentmindedly holding his arms to chest, wishing that the Washington DC jail was a bit more tolerant to polar bears so he could have the familiar feel of Kumajiro in his arms. Not that feeling completely and utterly invisible _wasn't_ a familiar occurrence, but the little fuzz ball usually did make him feel a little better…at least when he managed to remember who he was.

Man…Canada's life kind of sucked.

"Excuse me, gentlemen." The president broke in sternly and tiredly, gaining all the nation's attention. "I was thinking we should let Matthew _tell us_ why he's here. You know, instead of arguing about it."

France and England blushed, turning away from each other while scratching the back of their necks. America beamed. "Good idea boss! What'd you do to land yourself in the slammer, dude?"

"I-I was here the _whole time_," Canada sighed. "I've been with you all the _whole time_. Didn't you notice that I always started out in each of your stories and then just faded away somehow?"

America pursed his lips. "I just thought you went home to bathe in maple syrup or something."

"Why would I _bathe_ in _maple syrup_?"

"I don't know! You guys are all sorts of messed up in the north! I mean, selling milk in _bags_? What's _that_ all about?"

"It's better for the environment!"

"It's _weird_!"

With a sigh, England stepped between the quarrelling nations and pulled them apart by their ears, ignoring the small "ow" from Canada and the (very manly) whimpers of pain from America. "Okay, that is quite enough out of the both of you," He snapped. "Honestly, you two are acting like a couple of colonies."

"You wish," America grumbled. England promptly whacked him in the side of the head. "Ow! Hey!"

The president cleared his throat harshly, again quieting down the nations. He sent Canada an apologizing smile before gesturing his hand in his direction. "Please Matthew, tell us what really happened tonight so I can decide if I want to leave these idiots here and go to sleep or not." France, England and America gulped audibly.

"Think you'll bail the awesome me out too, Prez?" Prussia asked with a grin. The president narrowed his eyes.

"No."

"Dammit."

"Canada, would you please?"

The shy nation nodded, biting his lip and wringing his hands together nervously. "W-well, it all started this morning…"

* * *

"So what do you think, the flags or the eagles? I think I like the eagles, 'cause there are flags behind them, so it's like getting the best of both worlds, right?" America paused, finally looking up from his patriotic ties to note the far off look on his Canadian brother's features. With narrowed eyes and pursed lips, he chucked the flag tie at Canada's head. "Dude! Snap out of it!"

Canada squawked as the silk smacked him in the face, successfully breaking him from his really-bored-of-America's-nonsense trance the loud nation had somehow lolled him into.

Really, when dealing with America as much as he had to, Canada had learned to trance out at a rather young age. He attributed his sanity to this skill.

"Sorry, eh. Lost myself for a moment there. What were you saying?"

America sighed dramatically. "I _wanted _to know which tie you liked better. The flags-" he gestured to the lump of silk now resting in Canada's lap. "Or the eagles." He held up his hand, displaying said fashion accessory.

Canada blinked, giving America a look of perplexed indifference. "Does it really _matter_?" America pouted. "What happened to the one you had on earlier, eh?"

America scratched the back of his neck. "It fell in my cereal bowl…Pleeese bro? Be a pal?" He grinned obnoxiously.

Canada sighed in defeat. "I don't know…the flags."

"Really? 'Cause I kinda liked the eagles."

"Then wear the eagles."

"But you like the flags…"

Canada buried his face into his pillow and released a muffled scream. America seemed to take this as a hint, carefully backing away from the crazed Canadian and deciding to wear the one with the fireworks on it instead.

He tsked. "Seriously, Canada. You're always stressed about something; you need to learn to be more relaxed. Like _me_!"

Canada briefly wondered what kind of war would start if he strangled America and what other nations would take his side.

It comforted him that it was basically guaranteed he wouldn't be alone.

* * *

After America and himself had separated, America off to annoy England and get breakfast and himself to, you know, actually arrive to the meeting _on time_, Canada made his way into the sparsely occupied conference room to prepare for his day of observing and analyzing the rest of the world.

He found his seat between Cameroon and Cape Verde, and started his usual routine of predicting how long it would take the nations to successfully screw up the careful, alphabetical order they had been placed in. Some chairs would remain where they were, of course. He and Cameroon never had problems being next to each other for example, and as long as Australia didn't ask Austria if he had received any of his mail lately, those two would be fine as well.

Of course, England and America would come in and complain about the United Kingdom and United States being beside one another, but neither would move. Canada always had to smirk at that.

Sure enough, as the others began filing in, Sweden wedged himself protectively between Finland and France (understandably), and once Lithuania had been forcibly pulled into Portugal's chair next to Poland (Portugal was like, always totally late anyway), Switzerland took his seat to be next to Lichtenstein. Romano had been dragged next to Spain, successfully pushing South Korea off the table and sending him next Belgium in Belarus' seat while she simply stood threateningly behind Russia.

Canada smiled to himself. In a world as crazy as his, it was good having a routine.

And keeping with said routine, seven minutes past the official conference starting time, America busted into the room with a wide grin and a head full of idiotic ideas.

"Hello world!" America exclaimed, greeting his fellow nations as he strolled into the conference room. "Have I got the sweetest plan ever to fatten the rest of you up!" The entire room groaned.

"Hopefully it will be better than that ray gun that blew up food he had last time." China mumbled under his breath as he took a paper from the stack was that being passed around.

A couple of surrounding nations nodded in agreement. Cuba ripped a paper from the pile and shoved it along. "Idiot couldn't even do it right. It literally _blew up _the food."

Denmark shook his head as he took his. "I thought Italy was going to flood the damn room with his crying after his ravioli exploded." He smirked. "It _was _funny as hell, though."

America waited until each nation had received a copy of his paperwork, before clearing his throat and opening his mouth to speak.

"I'm going to fucking murder you, you sodding piece of festering rubbish!"

The room collectively turned their attention to the fuming Brit in the doorway, no one all that surprised by the brutal entrance. America winced, holding a manila folder in front of himself protectively as England stomped toward him.

"Jesus, old man! What the hell did I do?" He asked, releasing a small 'eep' as England ripped the folder from his hands and tossed it across the room.

"You- you and your bloody sad excuse for a transportation system!" He thumped the younger nation in the back of the head before stalking to his seat, grumbling. "Learn how to drive a fucking taxi, you git…your job is to_ pick up people_, not drive off from them like you're on fucking _fire. _Bloody wanker… Right tosser if you ask me…"

America rubbed the sore spot on his head left by England, raising an eyebrow in confused irritation before shaking it off and continuing with his little spiel. "Anyway, as I was _saying…"_

France elegantly rested his chin in the palm of his hand, smirking knowingly as England ripped the paper that was passed down to him from Spain. "_What?_" He snapped.

"Oh, nothing, _Angleterre."_ France snickered. "I just think it is_ très _interesting that you and _Amérique_ both happened to be tardy this morning."

"Don't think too much into it!" England snapped, blushing lightly. France smirked, a small blush creeping onto his cheeks as well.

"Oh, it is _far_ too late for that, _mon cher_."

Ignoring the murderous glares being sent across the table streaming from England's general direction, America started up once again.

"Okay everyone, listen up, I have some super cool ideas to fix this whole world hunger thing! First of all, I have one word for all of you…" He pressed a button on his laptop, reveling a picture of a happy little cloud raining a happy little hamburger. "…FLDSMDFR!"

The room let loose a collective moan. Germany rested his head in his palm. "America, that word doesn't have any vowels in it. It is not a word. In fact, I am curious as to how you were even able to pronounce it."

The younger nation pouted. "But…but it makes it rain food…"

Germany pushed him aside where he was quickly and violently pulled back into his seat by England. "If anyone has any other ideas for solving world hunger, feel free to share," Germany practically begged, eyes trailing over uncomfortable and ignoring faces.

Canada smiled widely, proudly poking his hand into the air while fiddling with his notes in the other. "I-I have something I-I'd like to share. I-"

"Okay France, go on." Germany nodded to France who quickly collected his notes and stood up. "And _mein Gott_ man, keep your clothes _on_ this time."

Canada sighed and put his hand back on the table.

"_Bonjour mes amis!_ Beautiful day, _non?_ I have a _très magnifique_ solution to our little food _problème."_

Canada was briefly aware of Spain screaming something about babies and the sound of someone (probably Romano) hitting someone else (probable Spain) in the stomach, before he stubbornly decided to ignore the rest of the room. If they weren't going to pay attention to him, why bother paying attention to them?

So as England jumped up from his spot and tackled France into an unlucky potted plant for _who knows_ what reason, Canada drifted off to the sweet world of disinterest.

* * *

**THIS. CHAPTER. Dear goodness, this thing kicked my ass. I don't even know why; Canada's part is the only part I've had planned out through this whole thing! XD **

**It was originally going to be one long chapter, but I got carried away, and it kept getting longer, so I split it up. I figured you guys would rather have a shorter chapter earlier than a longer chapter later. This chapter is what really happened at the meeting, while the next will be the fun one showing how they got arrested. I'm so pumped! **

**So The chair scene. I've been trying to figure out where to stick that little idea of mine since I got a poster with the world flags in alphabetical order for my bedroom. It's my favorite scene in this whole thing. I love nations causing trouble. :)**

**Anyway, hope you liked! Part two of the truth is next, followed by a special last chapter featuring Prussia! Don't forget to review! :)**


	6. Who? Part 2: The Bar and Russia's

Canada was a bit confused.

Mentally, he was still back at the conference room, gathering up his papers and wishing whoever noticed him a pleasant evening and weekend. He was adjusting his messenger bag on his shoulder and tucking his hair behind his ear as he made his way out the door behind Estonia, preparing to get into his limo to be taken back to the hotel. After a quiet night of watching some TV, the next morning he would be hopping on a plane and heading back to Ottawa.

And yet, physically, he was sitting at a sticky table in some bar in Washington DC watching America blab on about how awesome he was at the meeting, France hitting on _everything_, present company included,and England literally trying to drown out the two of them with mug after mug of the beer America had bought for them.

Uncertainly, he sipped at his bottle of Molson Canadian (that he practically had to _force_ America to get for him, he noted), and waited for disaster to strike.

"So, what do ya say, England?" America smirked drunkenly, taking another large gulp from his mug. "I know you totally showed up all rudely late, but of what you did manage to see, how awesome _was_ I?"

Aaaand there it struck.

"You-you-you-_wanker_!" He snapped. "It was your fucking fault I was late in the first place!"

America shrugged. "Not _my_ fault you don't know how to hail a cab."

"I _beg your pardon!_ I can hail a taxi just fine thank you! It's y_our_ bloody drivers that wouldn't fucking stop!"

"Because you don't know how to hail them."

"Why you insolent little-!"

A brief struggle began to unfold involving an empty mug and a stray pool cue that was then regarded by the rest of the bar with mild interest. It was only after America had managed to free his head from the triangle shaped pool rack, and England got his leg out from the mini-fridge behind the bar that the other bar-goers started to lose interest.

"And-and you know what-what else?" England snapped, his alcohol consumption starting to catch up with him as he tried to strangle the younger nation. "I…I bloody hate that jacket. It's-it's stupid! Like yer face!"

"Oh-oh yeah? Well, yoooou have giant caterpillar eyebrows!" At this America smiled proudly, obviously believing this was the best insult in the world.

England released his vice-grip for a moment to gawk in shock at the confident American, before his eyes narrowed and he tackled him to the floor. "You bloody _twat!_"

"Bring it, Lobsterback!"

A tired sigh and a shift of movement in his peripheral vision tore Canada's gaze from the fighting duo to the coy Frenchman to his right. Carefully glancing in his direction, he sent him what he hoped was a questioning-and-in-no-way-sexual smile. "H-hey France. What's up?"

France sighed deeply once again, slipping an arm around the back of Canada's chair. "It is such a shame that those two feel the need to express their love in such a violent manner, _non_?"

"Uhh…"

"It is a shame that they do not make use of the language of _l'amour_ like us," France purred, leaning closer to whisper in his ear. "_Vous ne croyez pas?_" Wouldn't you agree?

"F-France, you're a little in my, um, my personal space, eh."

"And does this _excite_ you, _mon cher_?"

"Not…particularly…"

"Do you honestly think you could get away with something like that? It's completely idiotic!"

"Nothing is going to go wrong, I'm telling you. It'll be freaking sweet!"

Canada raised an eyebrow as America and England came jogging back, their little fight nothing but a memory. It was always so weird how they could just bounce back like that. America instantly began fumbling with his wallet when he got to the table, England standing behind him, arms crossed in a huff.

"There must be something seriously wrong with you, you git," he grumbled. "I mean, who steals panties? Honestly! And _Ukraine's_, of all nations? Do you have a death wish?"

"She's hot." America shrugged, slapping a couple dollars on the table and enthusiastically throwing an arm around England's shoulders. "And then, if Russia doesn't kill us, we run around _naked_!"

Canada instantly paled, spitting his beer all over the table. "Wait, wait, wait! You guys are panty raiding _Ukraine_, and then going _streaking_?"

America nodded eagerly while England stubbornly shook his head; finally wiggling from America's grip and plopping irritably back into his seat at the table.

This, of course, gained France's interest, tearing his gaze from what Canada could only assume was a rather unconvincing transvestite at table twelve to join their conversation. "What is this I hear about panties and getting naked, _messieurs_?"

America spun to France and beamed, his inebriation becoming all too apparent as he swayed a bit into the table and knocked England's unfinished drink into his lap. The older nation cursed loudly. "It's gonna be awesome! You in?"

"Oh, Brilliant," England grumbled, trying to clean himself up while obviously seeing double of his own lap. "Invite the bloody frog and make my night even worse, why don't you."

America blinked. "But I just did..."

"Oh for the love of—just forget it."

France smirked and waved him off. "You do not have to come, _Angleterre_. Young _Amérique_ and I will just have naked time without you."

"Not on your life," England seethed.

Canada whipped his head from nation to nation in wild desperation. "Are you _serious_?" He cried. "Are you even thinking about this? This is suicide! _Are you even listening to me?"_

But his words fell of deaf ears as America grabbed France and England's wrists, and with a thunderous "Then let's go!" the trio made their way to the door.

Canada sighed, every part of his brain yelling, _ordering_ him to go back to the hotel, reheat some pancakes for himself and Kumajeeno and see if America had any re-runs of "Degrassi" on any of his channels. (Not that he liked Degrassi, of course. He was just really in the mood for something Canadian) He bit his lip as the door to the bar swung shut behind the other nations, running a hand through his hair nervously.

A car horn and a distinctively British voice screaming something along the lines of "watch it you sodding wanker" outside of the bar ripped him back to reality, and with an aggravated sigh, he decided to follow after the drunken idiots.

Like he ever had a fucking choice.

* * *

Overall, the trip to Russia's house was fairly uneventful in Canada's opinion.

Save for America getting them lost after not being able to find Russia on a map ("It's the biggest fucking thing on there, you git! Honestly, I'm amazed you even know how to breathe successfully!"), and a small scuffle between England, France, and an unfortunately placed _Speed Limit 25 _sign (it looked at them wrong, of course. Judgingly. Because they were European), they arrived without much trouble.

"So how do we break into this place, anyway?" America asked as he poked his head out from behind the bush they were all hiding behind. Somewhere along the way he had acquired an entire ensemble of camouflage clothing. Canada wasn't about to ask. "It's like a fucking Commie fortress!"

"I dun bloody _caaare_." England slurred, slumped on the ground against America's legs and taking a large pull from a bottle none of them realized he had in his possession. Everyone gaped as the nation hiccupped a little and narrowed his eyes at them in retaliation. "Wot? Can't a man drink in please?"

This of course was preceded by another big chug from the bottle and an ungentlemanly burp and fart combination. Canada buried his face in his hands. "Oh maple, he's completely wasted!" He cried.

America could only watch in horror as his former charge scratched at his crotch absentmindedly while France crossly wrinkled his nose in disgust. "_Sacre bleu_, _Angleterre_!" He gasped. "Where on Earth did you get _that_?"

England blinked heavily at France a few times before glancing wearily at the almost empty bottle in his hand and blinked again. "This?"

"_Oui_, that!"

Another long blink was directed at the bottle before England hiccupped again and took another swig. "Took it from the pub."

"You _stole_ an entire bottle of liquor?" Canada gasped.

"Baaah," England waved him off. "It's bloody rum. They should be handing this stuff to me on…on the streets. Practically invented the stuff."

"Oh, this is bad. This is so bad," Canada whimpered, pacing back and forth. "There is no way were going to get away with this now. No way in Hell." He hit his forehead against a nearby tree and groaned. "Ow."

America, apparently finally over the horror of England's less than gentlemanly behavior, shuttered. "Dude, he is going to be regretting this later. Liquor before beer, you're in the clear. But beer before liquor? Never been sicker, baby."

Canada and France simultaneously shuttered as well.

"Well," France sighed. "Might as well keep _cher_ _Angleterre_ under my supervision whilst he is running around like a drunken idiot. Oh _Angle_- Hey, where did he go?"

"Oh god, we _lost him_!" Canada cried sinking to the ground, his head still resting against the tree.

"He's over there!" America pointed to Russia house, his face melting to one of horror as England kicked in the gate and strode into the back yard. "_Dude!"_ He shrieked, running over. "What are you _doing_?"

"_Mon Dieu_…" France mumbled miserably, massaging the bridge of his nose and going after them with Canada close behind.

By the time they had reached the door, England had somehow successfully picked the lock and was halfway into the Russian's kitchen, fumbling around recklessly for a light switch. America whimpered, nibbling furiously at his left index fingernail and following after the older nation cautiously.

"Man, this place gives me the creeps." He shivered.

England tsked, finally finding the light and switching it on. "This was your blasted idea, idiot. Get on with it already."

America bit his lip. "You know, if you guys are too scared or whatever, we don't have to-"

"Oh bloody hell!" England threw his hands into the air and stalked through the kitchen, tearing down the hallway, grumbling to himself. "There is no way I'm going all the fucking way to fucking Russia to fucking turn back now. Stupid git, can never fucking follow through with anything…"

America paled but ran after, calling out some excuse about England obviously needing protection, and yeah, thanks for showing him the way to Ukraine's room, the hero could take over from here. France casually followed while Canada dragged his feet along behind them, cursing himself for caring so much.

It didn't take long for the nations to find the pink, flowery door that lead to the girl's room, and even less time for them to realize they had no fucking idea what they were doing. Except for France. Apparently he had done this before.

Shocking.

"So this is what we need to do. First we sneak into the room _très doucement,_ very quietly. _Cher Ukraine _is a very delicate _mademoiselle_ and we do not wish to wake her, _non_? Now, the undergarments will be in the top drawer, so-"

America stuck his hand into the air. "How do we _know_ they'll be in the top drawer?"

"Why, because the delicates are _always_ in the top drawer, _mon ami_."

Canada raised an eyebrow. "Where _else_ would they be, America?"

He shrugged. "I dunno. Mine aren't there. I always just keep them on the floor or whatever."

France smirked. "Ah, so they end up wherever they land after _Angleterre _rips them off."

"I _beg your pardon?"_ England shrieked.

"Guys," Canada whispered, "keep it down, we don't want to wake Ukraine up…" Thankfully the other's quieted, much to Canada's relief.

Still not entirely comfortable with this whole _adventure_, as America had taken to calling it, he couldn't exactly deny that getting a peak at a pair of Ukraine's panties wasn't an entirely appalling idea (she was a good looking girl!), he just wished they didn't, you know, have to break into the house of quite possibly _the most_ emotionally unstable of the nations to do so.

And taking the other nations into consideration, being the most emotionally unstable was actually pretty impressive. And frightening. Mostly frightening.

Shaken from his thoughts by the sound of the door squeaking open, Canada quickly turned his attention to being as silent as possible as they snuck into the dark room.

In the dull light from the hallway, he could make out a lump breathing lightly under pink, flowery blankets, and the very top of smooth platinum hair poking out from the top. Next to the bed was a lacey, doily-covered dresser with a small lamp and a couple of hair accessories next to a small wooden jewelry box. With an affirmative nod from France, the group quietly shifted to the dresser and waited for America to slide it open.

And slide it open he did, reveling a drawer filled entirely with knives. Sharp, shiny, pointy, all around dangerous looking knives.

"Well," England mumbled. "That's certainly not right, is it?"

"_WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY ROOM?_"

The nations jumped, turning slowly to face the bed. The bed where Belarus was now wide-awake, glaring menacingly, and holding a knife.

A_ big_ knife.

"Nope…" America gulped. "That's not right at all."

* * *

**Okay so I lied again. Canada's tale is going to be 3 chapters. Why? Cause I was getting anxious to get this out and I can. So nyah. **

**I totally was going to get this out by my birthday, too! But that was last Sunday so obviously that didn't happen (I turned 22 btw. I'm old, shut up). But this chapter kept _going _and it wouldn't end so I just HAD to get it out, and I hope that's okay with everyone. :(**

**But yes! 2 more chapters! Don't forget to review and have a great day! **

**-Car**


	7. Who? Part 3: The Resolution

There were only a handful of times in Canada's relatively short life (compared to the other nations at least) where he could honestly and without embarrassment say he was shit-your-pants scared.

The first was when he was but a little colony, and America (of course) decided it would be a super cool idea to go down Niagara Falls in an old pickle barrel England had brought over on his last visit. Needless to say, he limped away with a mild concussion, a broken arm, a fractured shin, and a soiled pair of trousers.

The next was sometime not long after WWII had ended. England had mistaken him for America (of course), and accidentally let loose his arsenal of Halloween thrills and chills on _him_ rather than his brother. Now-a-days Canada stayed as far away from those two come October as nationally possible.

The next notable incident was the morning after a Christmas party some time in the early 80's. It involved _way_ too much wine, a conveniently placed mistletoe, a Santa hat and Prussia.

He didn't want to think about that one.

The most recent was this past winter's hockey game between he and America. Not that he wasn't completely confident that he could win of course, but damnit, that had come a little too close for comfort. At least he could pretty confidently say that America's pants suffered a similar fate.

Yes, just a hand-full of times when Canada was shit-your-pants scared.

This was quickly becoming one of those times.

"WHY ARE YOU IN MY ROOM?" The heavily accented voice of Belarus cut through the nation's skin, causing them to recoil behind one another. America somehow found himself at the front of the pack, and after a fearful glance at the cowering nations behind him, he slowly turned to Belarus and smiled weakly.

"So this is your room, huh?" He gulped. "I like your curtains."

The light flashed dangerously off of her knife as she leaned forward. "You have three seconds to tell me why you are in my room."

"Um…well, funny story, that. See, we were at this bar and-"

"тры."

America paled, obviously having no idea what she had just said, but assuming it was some kind of number due to context. He quickly jumped to the back of the pack, sending Canada (of fucking course) to the front.

"Uh…" He mumbled intelligently.

Belarus had now slipped from the bed, and was slowly creeping closer to the small group of nations, the knife continuing to glint treacherously in the light from the hallway. "два."

"Fucking eh, guys! Help me out here!" He shrieked.

"Belarus? Is something the matter little sister? I heard a sound." Aaand cue the mentally unstable Russian. Canada fought the urge to bend over and kiss his ass goodbye. From the corner of his eye, Belarus instantly perked.

"Big Brother!" She cooed, clasping her hands together adoringly. "In here! America and his _stupid_ lackeys are trying to take advantage of me!"

America popped out of the cluster long enough to shoot her a shocked glare. "Dude! What the fuck? Don't pin this all on me!"

"And we are _certainly_ not this moron's lackeys, thank you very much!" England snapped. Their protests were easily ignored as heavy footsteps in the hallway made their way closer and Belarus shot each of them a rather intimidating smirk.

"Russia will _destroy_ you."

On cue, America leapt from the pack and pumped his fist into the air. "Well! This has certainly been fun!" He grinned, extending his hand for a firm handshake with the leering girl. "We'll have to do it again sometime. Don't call us, we'll call you, _hasta la vista_ and all that jazz…Ready guys? …Guys?"

Canada blinked and glanced behind him. Sure enough, England and France were nowhere to be found. With a gulp, he turned back o America.

Or, he would have, had America not been currently screaming and running from the room. Fucking asshole.

Belarus turned her attention (and knife, he noted) back to him.

"Maple…"

Luckily, Russia took this opportunity to peak his head into the room (and Canada briefly considered how screwed up his life was when _Russia_ appearing was considered _lucky_), instantly gaining the girl's attention.

"Big brother!" She cried, dropping the knife and leaping into his arms. "They were after me, but you came to my rescue!" Her nails began digging harder and harder into his arms as her grip on him began to tighten. "I am eternally grateful, I pledge myself to you forever."

"T-that's unnecessary, Belarus…" Russia stuttered, trying and failing to pry himself from her grasp. "I just heard some noises and I wanted to check them out. It really, _really_ was not that big of a deal…"

"Oh, but it was," she hissed. "And the only way to fully show my appreciation is to spend the rest of my life with you. Marry me…marry me…marry me…_marry meee_…"

The color drained from Russia's face as he began to forcefully attempt to push Belarus away. "No Belarus! It wasn't! это пиздец! Get away! GET AWAY!"

Canada managed to sneak from the room amongst the screams of terror, giving the poor man a silent salute because, well…goddamn.

He thought _he_ had family issues.

* * *

And he was quickly reminded that he _did_ once he made his way outside and France and America were giggling, hovered over something pink and frilly.

"Bro! Bro, look at what I snagged before I got out of there!"

Canada crossed his arms and pursed his lips. "Why did you guys just leave me in there? Do you have any idea what I just saw?"

America ignored him. "Dude, look! I snuck into Russia's room on my way out and took these!" He wiggled the pink, frilly panties in Canada's face as France continued to giggle. "Can you believe he wears _girl's underwear_? You were totally right by the way, it was in the top drawer."

"How do you know those aren't Ukraine's?" Canada asked, retching and pushing the offending item away.

America rolled his eyes. "Duh, the room was, like, radiating vodka, sunflowers and torment. There was a guillotine next to the closet. Estonia was _bound and gagged_ on the bed. Unless Ukraine is somehow hiding a side to her I sure as hell have never seen, I think I'm good."

* * *

"That's weird…." Ukraine mumbled, a perplexed crease on her forehead as she dug through her delicates. "I could have sworn those panties were right here."

* * *

Canada sighed. "Fine, fine. Let's just grab England and get out of here." France and America ceased their chuckles to quickly shoot each other worried glances. Canada narrowed his eyes threateningly. "Guys…Where is England?"

"He _was_ here," America murmured, and France took advantage of his distracted state to stuff the panties in his coat pocket. "And then he mumbled something about the fires of Mordor and took off somewhere."

"Fires of Mor-what?"

France shrugged and shook his head. "He was like a man possessed, _mon ami_. He attacked that shrub." Canada sent a pitying look at the unfortunate foliage. "You would think the near death experience would have sobered him, _non?_"

America ran a hand through his hair. "_Avada Kedavra_ed the thing to high hell and took off down the road. It was hilarious, actually."

"And a bit, how you say, _freaky_."

"Oh yeah, totally freaky."

"And arousing."

"Yeah, definitely arous-wait! No!"

"_Hon hon hon!"_

Canada rolled his eyes. "Come on guys, enough. We have to go find England before he gets himself into some kind of-"

"_AHOY MATIES!_"

"…Trouble."

"_Mon Dieu_…"

"You gotta be shitting me."

England, completely naked with a mailbox slung casually over his shoulder, came strutting down the street, a devious little smile gracing his lips. "What's with all the clothes?" He asked easily. "Are we gettin' naked or not?"

"Oh my god, England! _What the hell?"_

"Wot? Wasn't this the blasted plan in the first place?" He placed a hand on his hip. "Don't tell me you're all chickening out now."

America stomped forward, clenching his fists. "Heroes are never chicken!" He stepped back and cocked his head to the side. "But seriously, what's with the mailbox?"

"Took it."

"Jesus, dude! That's _stealing_!"

"Oi! If they wanted the bloody thing so bad they shouldn't have left it by the street."

"That's where you _put _mailboxe_s_!"

Canada put his head into his hands with an agonized sigh. France smiled in sympathy and placed a comforting hand on the younger nation's shoulder. "He will snap out of pirate mode soon, _mon ami_. Do not let him get to you." Canada smiled weakly.

"Yeah, but what comes after pirate mode?"

"…Let your brother be the one to worry about that."

Canada shuttered.

* * *

Within a moment of arriving back in Washington DC, in what could only be described as complete utter chaos, Canada found himself following behind a trio of once again drunk ("_Damnit England! Where the hell do you keep pulling these bottles from?_"), naked nations running amok through a small neighborhood of moderately sized houses.

"For the love of-_stop _stealing mailboxes, England! They _belong_ there!" Canada cried, watching helplessly as England laughed maniacally, running down the street with a mailbox held triumphantly above his head. "America, do something!"

His only answer was a giggle as America was far too preoccupied with the automatic sprinklers in one of the mailbox-less yards to pay him any sort of attention. And he would have asked France to help, but the man was currently doing very…_inappropriate_ things to a streetlight and Canada had given up trying to get him to stop after the sixth time his ass had been fondled.

You know what?

Fuck it.

And as England literally came crawling back to America, sobbing about how _cute_ he used to be _and "just say England like you used to one more time, please_!" that Canada picked up one of the fallen bottles of hard liquor (seriously where was England _keeping_ these things?) and took a long, well disserved, burning swig.

Which, of course, was precisely when the police showed up.

Of_ fucking_ course.

* * *

"And there you have it!" Canada exclaimed, throwing his hands into the air. "They handcuffed us, stuffed us in the back of a police car, drove us to the station, preformed an _extremely_ uncomfortable cavity search despite the fact that I wasn't even _naked_, and here we are! _Satisfied?"_

The group blinked at the panting, flustered Canada owlishly, finally breaking their perplexed gawk as America laughed loudly.

"Oh Canada, you and your imagination!"

England nodded. "There was no reason to make up such a preposterous story, lad."

"_Oui_," France agreed with a shrug, "If you wanted a little attention all you had to do was ask." He winked.

Canada's jaw dropped. He turned to the president desperately, begging the man with big violet-blue eyes to just please, _please_ believe him. The president simply shook his head tiredly, checked his watch and stood up.

"Well, it's four-thirty in the morning, and that is about as accurate as we're going to get, so let's just get you boys out of here, you can stay at my place." He motioned to the guards who unlocked the cell with a clank. "I need some fucking sleep," he mumbled, dragging his feet to retrieve the nation's belongings.

"About bloody time, if I had to stay here one more moment, I would have-Oi! Get your hands off my arse, you twat!"

"I will admit I will miss this view, _Angleterre."_

"I don't know about you guys, but I could sure so for some grub right now. What do you say boss? Stop by Mickey D's on the way back?"

"I hate all of you."

Prussia grinned as the president, America, France, England and still pouting Canada walked by. "Right! So, the awesome me will just chill here and wait for you guys to tell someone to bail me out! Haha! Sure is gonna be better with all of you guys gone. That's right, I sure do love being alone! Haha…ha…"

The guard sent him an amused glance. Prussia pouted, plopping himself on the bench with a huff.

"Oh, shut up."

* * *

**This chapter would have been up a long time ago if it wasn't for the fact that it came at, like, the worst possible time ever. Between cross country, internships, it being my _senior year_ of college, a spontaneous visit from my boyfriend, my trip back home for the next weekend, midterms, papers, interviews, etc. This would have been golden. **

**Buut, I got it up somehow! And while that may be the end of the FACE (+President) shenanigans, we get to learn about how little Prussia got himself put in jail next time! Yay! Hopefully life will slow the fuck down so I'll get it up soon. :|**

**Have a good day!  
-Car **


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